Page 41 of Full Court Love
This statement sends goose bumps down my spine. His tone is serious and insanely intriguing. Plus, the button-up shirt, sport coat, and slim-fitting pants perfectly tailored to his muscular frame are doing the Lord’s work. But the best part is his sly smile as he turns and disappears into the darkness.
My chest is rising and falling at an aggressive pace.
I believe him. And I want to make out with him some more. Obviously. But as I step inside and head to the bathroom to wash off my makeup, I realize something: he needs me to give him the same trust and effort he’s promising me. He’s definitely made me feel like I’m the most special person on earth. Now I want to return the favor.
I plop down on the bed and begin braiding my hair. Both our teams are leaving for a road trip in two days, so I might have to wait until we get back to provide some gesture that shows how strongly I feel for him.
Then it comes to me.
Food is definitely one of my love languages, so I’m going to use it to communicate my emotions better than words can–I’ve heard that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, so I guess I’ll put that theory to the test. I set my alarm so I can head to the store early. I’m going to need the majority of the day if I want to get everything made.
After loading up on supplies, I start with chocolate chip cookies–an obvious choice and my go-to dessert. Next, I make apple cinnamon muffins because Jordan mentioned he’d never been to an orchard before. I’m forcing him to go with me next year. I tried to get some protein in the mix with some spiced almonds and homemade peanut butter protein bars.
To end, I try to make something that carries some meaning for him. He said his mom once made birthday cake fudge for him to take to school on his birthday, and he felt so special. It seems like that would be the perfect way to show him how incredible I think he is too.
I write notes explaining what each thing is and why I made them, package everything up, and take it to the arena. I find my favorite janitor, Rick, and once I explain what I’m doing, he willingly lets me into the men’s locker room to put the basket of treats in Jordan’s locker.
As I walk out, I’m suddenly nervous that this is too much. What if he’s turned off by how much effort I went to? What if he’s embarrassed when the rest of the team sees it?
Part of me knows he’s going to love it, and the other part is self-conscious about any level of real vulnerability. Baby steps. I keep reminding myself that.
All night, I’m slightly on edge as Jordan and I text about the greatest sports movies of all time. My argument forHoosiersisn’t nearly as strong as it should be, thanks to my stress over my dumb gift. He kicks my butt when he makes his argument forRemember the Titans.I know he’s a pre-law major–AKA a professional arguer–but I should’ve been able to hold my own at least a little.
Even through text, he could tell something was off. Hekept asking if I was okay, and I kept playing it off as nerves for our road games. Inevitably, the morning arrives. My bag is packed, and when I pull into the arena parking lot, I see that our bus is parked right next to the men’s team’s bus per usual.
For better or for worse, I’ll get to see Jordan’s reaction in real time. Lingering outside, filling my water bottle twice, and walking on and off the bus pretending I’m looking for something eventually kills enough time that the men’s team starts to trickle out.
I see his frame approaching because I’d recognize it anywhere. As his outline grows larger, I see that his arms are full of a familiar-looking basket. Surrounding him are various teammates, all trying to pull items out as Jordan slaps their hands away.
He sees me, and his grin puts all my fears to rest. There’s not a hint of embarrassment or doubt. The only emotion on his face is genuine joy. Striding over, he wraps his free arm around me and kisses the top of my head. Then he puts his finger under my chin, turning my face so I’m looking up at him.
“This is easily the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever received. Everyone’s trying to steal it from me–”
Tyler interrupts, yelling from behind him. “Can you tell Jordan he has to share?”
Jordan shakes his head, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t deserve this, or you.”
I stand on my tiptoes and give him a kiss. Wolf whistles sound from the windows of both buses. Great, just what I need right now. An audience.
My voice is barely above a whisper. “Yes, you absolutely do. Also, this pales in comparison to everything you’ve done for me!”
He kisses my forehead one last time. “Nope, this is way better than all that.”
We start walking toward our respective buses. I look over my shoulder. “Text me.”
“I’ll do my best, but I might be a bit distracted. I’m reading this great book. Not sure if you’ve heard of it.”
He sets the basket down, unzips his bag, and pulls outLittle Women.Without another word, he winks and climbs up the stairs to the bus.
CHAPTER 18
JORDAN
Lucy’s timing is impeccable. I found her gift when I needed it most–right after a meeting with my coach that left me feeling unsettled.
I had arrived at the arena that morning to find my head coach waiting for me at the door. He said we needed to talk. Needless to say, my heart dropped and my mouth went dry.
I’ve seen this movie before.